Leave the Past in the Past
by Radiant Angel Girl
Summary: I didn't want to be legendary. It is a past that is best left in the past. Do not bring this up again." His father's words intrigued him.
1. Chapter 1

I was ten the first time I heard mention that my father knew how to use the sword. I had begun my study of my mother's sword style at that time. I had grown up with a somewhat skewed view that she was the man of the house; my father seemed to be a passive, calm person. He was playful and encouraging, but I always felt that the man was weak. He was not someone I aspired to be, as all boys should of their fathers. My father had always let us walk all over him; he seemed to be a pushover at times. I was never sure how my mother could love such a man, with all the strength she possessed.

I had, over time begun to resent my father. He was not what a father should be. As a boy, my friends would laugh at him. What they saw was a man doing women's work, laundry or cooking, and my mother teaching kendo. It was embarrassing

It was my "brother" Yahiko, who told me that my father was a swordsman. I had found it difficult to believe that the sword Yahiko carried had once belonged to my father. Somehow, Yahiko aspired to be him, but I just couldn't see why. There was nothing there but a meek, humble person with no strength. I wanted to be someone strong. I had mastery of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu before I was thirteen. It was not enough to challenge me.

The summer of my 15th birthday, my mother decided we should travel to Kyoto to visit some friends that they had not seen in a few years. My father, however, was hesitant. "Kyoto is not a place for the young," I would hear him say from time to time.

My mother would reply, "It's not that way anymore."

I would ask, "What way?" but they would never answer. What I assumed they spoke about was the revolution, a time when people could not walk the streets at night without fear of a hitokiri. My parents never talked about that much. What I learned about it, I learned from lessons in town. Perhaps that was where my father grew up. I never knew for sure. He never told me about his childhood. For that matter, I had few stories of the history between him and my mother before their marriage. I did know that he was too timid to ask her, so eventually she asked him to marry her.

We planned to leave for Kyoto in June, the month of both of my parent's birthdays, and stay until the end of July, when my birthday took place. My mother convinced him that it was a special occasion, and they owed their friends a visit. It had been a few years since they had seen them and it wasn't right to always make them visit. This caused my father to make a remark about someone or other having not visited in fifteen years. "That's different," my mother said. The subject was dropped.

A few days before we planned to leave, my mother and father went into town for supplies for the journey. Yahiko was in the dojo making repairs, there was no class today. I was cleaning the equipment outside. I had become quite familiar with the natural sounds surrounding the dojo, the pound of a hammer, the chirps of the birds, the creek behind the house. I easily noticed the creak of the doors into the estate, my head shot up to see who was there. Mother and father wouldn't be back yet, Tsubame worked until late in the evening, and there were no students today.

This was a ragged man walking toward me. He wore clothing that appeared to have at one time been white, now yellowed with time and mud, there was a black symbol I couldn't read on the back of his coat. I recognized it to be the same as the one Yahiko had sewn into his shirt. The man was unshaved, his hair was long and loose, held out of his face by a red band. As he stumbled along I heard him mutter something about change, but I didn't hear it all. I went back to cleaning, thinking that if I ignored him he would go away.

"Yo Kenshin! Where is everybody? Where's Jou-Chan?" This man must have known my father. I turned around to face him, and I realized he had been talking to me.

"I am not Kenshin," I stated, simply.

He recognized this quickly, "No, you're not. Sorry kid- you look just like him. I guess things do change. He is still around here, right?" he asked. This man must have known my parents before I was born. At my nod he said, "So you haven't had any trouble since I left, good."

"Look sir, my parents are out shopping for our journey to Kyoto. They may be gone a few more hours, maybe you should come back to visit later." If mother were her she would have slapped me for my lack of hospitality.

"I was actually looking to stay here for a few days," he said. "So why don't you be a proper host and invite me inside for a drink." I decided it would be best to let Yahiko escort the man back to the road. I excused myself and walked into the dojo, where Yahiko was finishing patching a hole in the wall.

"Yahiko, there's a guy out here who will not leave. He says he wanted to stay here a few days. Maybe you could come get rid of him." He seemed surprised, as he followed be out of the dojo and into the bright sunlight. Shielding his eyes, he squinted across the yard.

"Yahiko! You're all grown up!" the man called from a distance. Yahiko jogged across to meet the older man, who clapped him on the shoulder as soon as they met.

"Sano, its good to see you!." Yahiko said to the man.

"God, its been forever, kid. You probably god kids of your own by now."

"Not yet. I just got married about two years ago. You remember Tsubame?"

The man, Sano, nodded. "I figured it was only a matter of time."

"Where have you been for fifteen years?" Yahiko asked. There was a bit of resentment in his tone.

"Oh, just here and there. China, Britain, America, you know. Nothing like home though. Speaking of which, you probably sold the flat?" he asked.

"Yeah, a few years after you left there was a fire down there. I got some of your stuff out, its in storage here somewhere," Yahiko told him.

After about 10 minutes of small talk between the two men, it was clear they had forgotten about me. I cleared my throat, and Yahiko was the one to speak first. "Oh, sorry. Kenji this is Sagara Sanosuke. He is an old friend. Sano, this is Kenshin and Kaoru's son, Kenji."

"So they finally got the guts to get married and make babies. I could tell you were Kenshin's kid. You look just like him without the scar. Not to mention the attitude." The last comment was lost on me. I didn't know what he meant by the attitude part. I always felt I was more like my mother. "The swordsman's spirit, kid," he said, noticing my confusion.

"That man is not a swordsman," I said in a flat tone.

This seemed to anger Yahiko. He then said, "He is the best swordsman I have ever known, Kenji. He just doesn't need to be one anymore." His grip had tightened on the sakabatou.

Sano noticed this and asked, "Is that Kenshin's?" At Yahiko's nod, "Genpukku right?" He paused and ran a hand through his messy hair. "So you're all going to Kyoto. What's the occasion?"

"Kaoru thought it was long overdue to visit Aoshi and Misao. Tsubame and I are tagging along. I am sure you are welcome to come along with us if you stick around that long."

"Sure- sounds fun, kid. Oh! Right you really aren't a kid anymore.

I had been left out of the conversation long enough. I withdrew into my own thoughts, and went back to cleaning the equipment. Something was bothering me. The weak man that I knew to be my father was a swordsman, and a good one by Yahiko's conviction. Why did no one tell me this. Why didn't I learn his sword style instead of my mother's? I was stirred from my thoughts by Yahiko, "Kenji- be a good host and make some tea for our guest." It bothered me the way he treated me like that sometimes. I looked back at them before I entered the house, and noticed that Yahiko had dropped his voice and turned away from me. I couldn't tell what he was telling the man, but it seemed to stir anger in the visitor's face before it was calm again.

My parents arrived soon after tea, and the same kind of reunion occurred between them and this man as did with Yahiko. This Sano character was actually fairly interesting. He was a brotherly figure to my parents and Yahiko. It was strange to see this man fit so snugly into our family unit.

Sanosuke told us stories about his adventures across the world. He had told dozens when Yahiko finally excused himself. It was past sunset, and Tsubame would worry. My mother instructed me to clean the dishes, and after I finished I was shooed off to bed. As I lay there trying to sleep, I heard what sounded like an argument.

"He doesn't know, does he? You guys never told him." Sano was the one speaking. "Yahiko mentioned that fact to me earlier."

"There was nothing to tell, Sano," I heard my father say, rushed.

"Kenshin, the boy doesn't even believe you carried a sword. How could he not know about his legendary father?"

"It is best that he believes that I am not a swordsman. I didn't want to be legend, Sano, and you know that. You know as well as anyone what we went through! It is best to leave the past in the past." After a short pause, I heard a shoji door open and my father spoke again in a firm tone, "Do not bring this up again." I was intrigued. What was legendary about my father? What was his sword style? What was it about my parents' past that they were keeping from me?

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	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, I set out for the clearing near the creek to do my practice. I had maintained a habit of doing so even though my lessons were done. The morning sun shone bright in the meadow, and not a creature stirred nearby. It was a peaceful morning, the only thing that wasn't was me. My head was stirring, confused from the proceedings the day before.

Yahiko would want to go to the Maekawa Dojo, to lend his hand to the master there, as my mother had done countless times. He had helped promote our dojo to what it was today. I continued my practices even as I noticed the change in presence behind me. I could tell it was the man who had come from nowhere yesterday. I had questions for him, but did he have the answers I needed?

I spun around quickly, and the man looked surprised.

"You're fast. Very fast, Kasshin-Ryuu doesn't lend itself well to speed like that," he said, as though he knew about the style well. "I saw Yahiko and your mother through a number of battles with that style. Neither of them are quite as quick as you."

"What do you know, sir?" I asked, trying to be polite and failing. "I do not know you, Sagara-san. I do not know what happened in my family before I was born. I have been kept in the dark about these things my entire life. What can you tell me? Why should I trust you?"

"I have been asked not to tell you anything. It is not my place to go against your parents' wishes. But I do know that Maekawa-san may know a thing or two he can share with you," Sanosuke said. "I do not think they should keep the past from you, boy. I have always wanted the truth. I think knowing the past can only make the future safer."

With this cryptic note, Sanosuke took his leave and I returned to my practice. Perhaps I would inquire from Maekawa-san.

Later that morning, Yahiko and I set off to the other dojo. I was in a wondering mood. "Yahiko, what is the best sword-style you have ever seen?"

"What brings this question, Kenji?" he asked, turning to me.

"I want to know, I want to learn skills that will make me a better swordsman." It was a simple answer for a complex question. I was not foolhardy. I did not think more of myself than what I truly was. I just knew that I wanted to have more skill, because I could handle it.

"Well, that is a question best saved for another time. I am biased, remember," he said with a smirk.

"Who is Sagara-san?" This was a question I was eager to have answered. "I thought that was a name lost during the revolution?"

"Oh, Sano? He was a street fighter we met right after I ran into your parents. He really is a good guy, the law just kinda chased him out of Japan, though." That didn't sound too good. It made the man seem untrustworthy.

"How did you meet my parents, Yahiko?"

"Questions, questions. I met your father fifteen years ago, I pick pocketed from him." He looked wistful.

"You were a pickpocket? Why?"

"Well, my parents died, and I had to take care of myself. I got into some trouble with some yakuza, and your father rescued me."

"Really? How?" I felt a childlike quality overcome me, this curiosity.

"Well, he followed me to the yakuza hideout, and told them he was taking me. They wanted a fight, so they attacked him. He smashed one into the ceiling with one blow, using this sword that I carry. The yakuza were afraid of him, so they let me go. Then I became your mother's only student."

"Why didn't mother have any students?"

"Kenji-chan, that's enough questions for today, don't you think? Come on, the dojo's up ahead."

We arrived at the dojo a few moments later. As Yahiko taught the lesson, I sat on the side. Maekawa-san came and sat next to me. "You must thank your parents for lending their services to me. They have always been very kind to me and my family. I owe them a debt yet to be paid." He seemed to be thoughtful, remembering.

"Can you tell me about my father? I must be honest, I do not know much about the man before he became my father."

"Well, when I met him, he had just begun his stay with your mother. And they visited, much the same as you are doing now. He saved my neck when a challenger came." Then he looked out at the practitioners ahead of him, "Kurou, come here." The young man came over to us. He looked to be about Yahiko's age, and was an assistant master for Maekawa-san. "You remember when Himura-san fought the challenger, don't you?"

"Yes. Not to degrade our own style, but Himura-san is the fastest swordsman I have ever seen. The challenger was quick, but Himura-san always evaded him, and was able to get him away from the dojo."

Maekawa-san continued, "I do believe that the man was forming a battalion of some sort, and your father was able to stop them, without a drop of blood spilt."

Yahiko walked up to us then, "Are you telling him about Raijuuta? That man was crazy, Kenshin didn't even use half his strength on that guy. And that is how we got our second student at our dojo, Yutarou. He was a student of Raijuuta. Don't ask him about it though, its still a sore subject." Then he said to Maekawa-san, "Sir, Kenji and I are going to head out. Your students are well trained so far." After a few niceties we left. I had been given new things to ponder.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few days I had not had anytime at all to ponder the new information I had been given. This was because we had been preparing heavily for the rapidly approaching date of departure. We left for Kyoto and it took an entire week of walking to get to Kyoto. Everyone went: Yahiko and Tsubame, Mother and Father, Sanosuke, and I. I really don't remember meeting these people that we were visiting before.

At one point, we were stopped, so I asked my father some questions. It was a rather quiet night, so I figured then would be as good of a time as any. "Father, would you tell me about your life as a swordsman?"

"…I would prefer not to, Kenji. It is a part of my past that I don't particularly like to remember."

"You guys have never told me anything about your past, nothing from before I was born. How will I know my family history?"

"Kenji, this one has a lot of burdens from my past. I understand your curiosity, really. But I am not ready to talk to you about it. I cannot prevent you from seeking out others and learning things while we are in Kyoto. I don't want to relive my past in telling you. It is something you will understand later." He was silent for a moment. Then he put a hand on my shoulder. "If you hear anything you do not believe, then come to me and I will tell you about it." His eyes looked regretful. What was it about my father that I did not know. I decided to let it go for now.

Several days later we arrived in Kyoto. I immediately noticed that father had tensed upon entering the gates of the city. We walked through the crowded streets, and some people seemed to downright avoid us, moving over to the other side of the street. From the small amount of training mother had given me in ki recognition, I could sense quite a bit of unease, and fear. Perhaps this was why father was so tense.

My mother recognized some people and had small conversations on the way to the inn where we would be staying. She insisted we visit a restaurant there, the Shirobeko. Incidentally, Tae's twin sister owned it, shocking Tsubame quite a bit. The food tasted quite good there. We finally made it to the inn, mother told me it was called the Aoiya. A small, energetic woman ran out of the place and hugged my mother.

"Kaoru! It's so good to see you. It's been so long since we've seen each other. I'm so happy you're here!" She let go of the taller woman who mirrored her enthusiasm. The woman hugged everyone, happy in the extreme to see everyone. She came to me, and put her arms at my shoulders, "Kenji, you've gotten so old! The last time I saw you, you were only seven or so. You're what, fifteen?" At my nod, "What an age, I remember being that age, such a long time ago." Turning to my mother, "Hard to believe I am thirty now, isn't it?"

My mother laughed, "It is indeed, Misao. How is Shiori?"

"Oh, that girl, she just turned eleven, energetic as ever. Just like me, not so much Aoshi."

At this point Sanosuke, who had remained quiet for quite some time snorted, and spoke up, "When did you to get together?"

"About two years after you left, Sano. Why do I keep talking? Come in!" We followed her into the inn, it was filled with several people. It was there that we met with Aoshi, who was much the opposite of Misao. He was quiet and reserved, standing tall over the girl. He greeted everyone quietly. Everyone settled down after a few hours.

After a while I was given permission to explore the area near the inn. I came upon a dimly lit room, that appeared to be used for meditation. I saw that Aoshi was kneeling there, and quietly backed out of the room. "Did you need something, Kenji?" He asked.

"No, I'm sorry to intrude."

I started to leave the room when he said, "You have questions." It was a statement. "Go ahead, ask away."

"Can you tell me about my father, I mean how you met him?" I had no expectations of this man, though. He seemed to be more likely to be a swordsman than my father, though this man was quiet and soft spoken as well.

"Very well," he sat back into a relaxed position. "Do you know what we are here?" I shook my head. "We are the Oniwabanshuu." I had heard of them, ninjas from the revolution. "After the revolution, I, as the okashira, led my comrades and friends into the employ of an evil man. Our strength was used as protection for a drug operation. He had kidnapped a woman doctor, and we were told to keep strangers away from her. " He paused for a moment, and took some tea.

"Your father came with that idiot Sanosuke, and the boy Yahiko, and fought for her. I fought your father, and the evil man attacked my comrades. In their death I was angry and though that if I took the title of strongest from your father, it would be the best offering for their graves. I lost. I became obsessed. I eventually allied myself with another, more powerful man. It was at this time that your parents came to know my wife, Misao. We met and fought again, and this time when I lost, I accepted my loss. You're father will retain his title until his death."

"If you fought him, why are you friends now?" I was confused, how did things change so much from then to now.

"I was severely mistaken that Himura Kenshin was an evil man. I was so very wrong, and thankfully he has forgiven my attempts on his life. You're father is a good man, now." He was quiet, reflective.

"You said he was the strongest?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me about his sword style?" I was going out on a limb.

"His style is the only one I have met and not conquered. Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu. It is a cutting-draw technique. From my understanding, there are only two men in Japan that know the style: Kenshin, and his master. Hiko Seijuro still lives in the mountains, but he visits town a few times a month to sell his pottery, and to buy sake." He looked like he was carefully planning his next words. "You should know, Kenji, that your father was once a feared man. Many here in Kyoto are intimidated by his presence. Just be aware that any odd ki you sense is likely just a reaction to his presence."

"Thank you, sir, for your time." I bowed low, and excused myself from the room.


	4. Chapter 4

My father was once a feared man, the best swordsman in Japan. A man with speed beyond all others, who refrained from spilling blood. These were the things I learned from people. I learned that my father was a hitokiri from a woodblock print. It was on the eve of the Gion festival that I went inside a small vender's stall, and looked at the prints they were selling. One colored nishikie caught my attention by the subject. It was a man of similar build to my father, bright fuchsia hair, dark navy gi. Across his cheek was a singular line of a scar. He appeared to be flicking the blood from his sword.

The vender saw that I had stopped to look at this print that eerily resembled my father. "Nobody wants to buy that piece. They feel the demon of the Bakumatsu may hunt them down."

"Huh?"

"You know, the Hitokiri Battousai. The assassin of the Ishin Shishi patriots. I have had that print for twenty years, see how it yellows around the edges. I will give it to you for thirty yen thirty sen."

"Here," I said handing him the change. "How did you know what he looked like?"

"Legend, boy. Red hair, amber eyes, scar. This was made before he had the cross-scar. He was legendary on the streets of Kyoto. Excuse me, I must attend to my other patrons."

Those things that he said were all things that were attributes of my father. But, he couldn't have been older than I when the revolution took place. Impossible. Was this the part of his past that he did not want to relive? Was this what made my father so legendary that he did not want to be legend? I was deeply troubled by this new information. I cannot lie and say that I had never heard of the Hitokiri Battousai. Once, when I was a child, I got in to trouble in town and an old woman slapped my hand telling me that if I did not behave that he would come and take me from my parents. Was that what my father did? God I hope not.

Confused, and getting angry over this unconfirmed revelation, I wandered through the streets of Kyoto as the sky darkened and the sun met the horizon. I found myself in an alley near to the main streets. I stopped and leaned against the beam of a house, and felt a deep cut in the wood. Upon examining it, I saw faded brown stains, bloodstains I presumed. I could sense that here in this deserted alley many years ago a small battle had taken place, in the dead of night. Was my father one among them?

I was rather disturbed by my train of thought, and wandered a portion further towards the inn.

As a child I had been acutely aware of my resemblance to my father. I had been born with his stunning bright hair. As I grew into a boy, I had his small, feeble physique. Once I had become a young teenager, my hair had darkened some, and my features grew stronger. I was even taller than the man, by several inches in fact. I certainly looked more of a man than my father ever could have hoped. To be honest, I had never been so thankful for the differences between us as I truly did at that moment. If all of this was true, I was afraid I would be pointed out as a striking resemblance to the Battousai.

I was certainly stunned, to say the least. One question that remained to be answered, why hadn't the sword style been passed along to me. Shouldn't I have learned the same style as my father, a traditional value of others in my generation. I was all at once reminded of the trials I had endured as a child for having a mother teach me kenjutsu. Why had my family put me through that embarrassment?

Arriving back at the inn, I was somewhat sullen. I did not feel the want to speak to anyone, and kept to myself most of the evening. When someone did chance talking to me, my response was biting, and sarcastic in nature. My sudden change in temperament from this morning's cheerful departure had not gone unnoticed. I wondered, did my family know what my father had been? At some point, mother had had enough of my attitude, and took me aside into another room, away from the common room of the inn.

"Just what is wrong with you, Kenji?" She was furious. "You have been behaving most poorly for a guest! I do not care if you do not appreciate the friendship of your hosts, but they are good friends of your father and I, and I will not tolerate your mood swings. What happened that put you in such a mood?"

It was at this time that I procured the rolled print from my sleeve. "I purchased this today from a roadside stall. The vender was obliged to tell me the legend of this man, whom I suspect is father. Were you aware that he… that this was what he was hiding?" I asked this, not really expecting the answer that followed.

"Kenshin never hid this from me. It has tortured him since long before we met. He only hoped that you could love him before you found out about this… confusing time in his life. He didn't want you to find out and jump to conclusions so easily. I… I really don't know what you want me to say, Kenji."

"I don't know what I want to hear, mother. I am angry. Angry that he kept this a secret from his son. Angry that I have grown up counter culture, and have taken your sword style. Angry that I have believed him to be some weak, feeble man. I am angry that I was so mistaken to believe that that man was helpless all along." I really didn't know what I wanted to say. Words just stumbled out of my mouth, as water that might spill from the eaves. "Was he really such a monster as this man told me?"

"Kenji, I don't think so. Really, I think he was just a mistaken youth, and he was taken advantage of for his skill. Perhaps that is why he did not want you to wield his sword style." Mother paused for just a moment and touched the face of the man in the print gently before rolling it back up. She tucked it into her sleeve, and stood. "Perhaps it would be best to keep this finding to yourself for a few days. The Gion festival is tomorrow, it should be enjoyed."


	5. Chapter 5

The Gion festival was certainly not something that I enjoyed. For the entire time of the celebrations I was stewing over the sheer lie my family had fed me from the time I was a child. I was forced by my mother to walk the streets with them during the festival. As we traced a path across town, I noticed my father had a general sense of unease.

"It has been a great number of years since I attended this festival," he told my mother.

"I know, Kenshin. I know." Mother knew everything. Once again my blood boiled. Then very suddenly, my father stopped in his tracks. He went over to the side of the street to examine a building there. It was of fairly new construction.

"This was the Ikedaya, Kaoru. A lot of people died here." He was very somber, and it was difficult to say if it was meant for me to hear. I had, in fact, heard of the Ikedaya Jiken. The Ishin Shishi had held a meeting there, and the Shinsengumi broke it up, and killed several. It still bothered me to think that he was just around my age at that time. I found it difficult to believe that the assassin had been my father. Maybe it was his brother or something, mother had been fairly non-committal yesterday when I had confronted her over the picture. We soon returned to the inn, and sat at dinner.

But then, I saw her slip a folded paper into his hand, the woodblock print. He opened it, scanned it, and quickly folded it back up, not wanting to face the reality of it. "Why did you bring this here, and give this to me?" he said questioning her, he looked almost angrily at her.

"I did not find this, Kenshin. Kenji bought this in the market, yesterday. He has questions for you, and they should be answered."

"You were only about 18 during the war, could this really be you? Is it a brother?" I had many questions, but I remembered our earlier cryptic conversation. He did not want to tell me his past, unless I found out on my own.

"This… I was the Hitokiri Battousai. I was 15 by the time I had this part of the scar. I was fourteen when I joined the Choshuu Ishin Shishi. I was an impressionable teenager, who was hot tempered, and easily enraged. I let my ideals lead me into the war, and my skill led me to be the hitokiri. I murdered hundreds, if not more, in the space of a few years. I had little social interaction because I was a "demon" who would kill anyone who got in my way. Well, that is what people said. What do you hope to attain in knowing this, Kenji? What do you want from this?" I had never seen my father so full of emotion. He was angry, and I had never seen so much regret in his face as I did now. Why had I imagined his life as something glorious? What did I hope to attain?

"I want to be stronger, like you were…" the words slid out of my mouth, like a snake.

And as though the snake were suddenly cut in two, the response from my father was, "No." He got up, and left the table. My mother followed him.

I was upset. So, I ran.

And all at once, I felt myself be overtaken by darkness…

I awoke what must have been several hours later, and it appeared that had been asleep, sitting on the side of an alley, not a good distance from that scarred wood I had examined earlier. As a matter of fact, I was in the same space, staring at that same plank. Except one difference, the cut in the wood was not there, and there were no blood marks to be found upon it. Maybe I was in a different place.

I remembered being angry at my father. I only wanted to be stronger, what was wrong in that? He had already explained to me that he was not an evil person, just taken advantage of for his skill. I think he didn't think I believed him. He thought I didn't understand what had happened in the past, and the truth was I didn't.

Aoshi had remarked once that he had fought my father for the title of "strongest" and lost. I gues I just wanted to have the experience of being the strongest, or even just seeing the strongest in action. But my father had refused, bluntly.

Suddenly, I heard from a distance a group of men fumbling my way loudly. These men, I could see from -the distance wore swords on their blets, and wore their hair in the old top-knot style. I quickly backed up into the shadows, that's when I realized that I couldn't feel anything.


	6. Chapter 6

I was awake, and very aware. But I could not feel my body, nor sense the ground below me. I could not see my arms before me. This must be a dream.

I was at that same street corner, but it was dark night, and the moon shone bright in the sky overhead. I heard, from down the alley, voices booming towards me. I slipped back into the shadows, and waited for them to pass. It seemed as if they were celebrating. As they approached I noticed that and older man was in the middle, flanked by younger men, bodyguards. When the men finally reached the clearing before me, I caught a snippet of their conversation, someone among them was to be married soon. Then suddenly from behind me a cold voice stated, "You must be Shigekura Juubeh. Though I bear you no grudge, for the sake of the new era, I must have your deaths."

"Who are you?" one among them asked.

The answer was simply: "Choshuu Ishin Shishi, Himura Battousai." As he approached them, I recognized this man as the boy who would be my father. That distinct hair, his short stature. His voice, though cold, was the same. And looking at his scar-free face, he was youthful, probably a little younger than I, but his eyes were colder than I had ever seen, almost alight with anger. But he stood, in the tattered uniform I had seen in the print, with a daisho at his hip. He suddenly dropped into battou-jutsu stance.  
Quickly, before my eyes, all were killed but one, who managed to block the sword aimed for his neck. They exchanged blows back and forth, until the man collapses, and Battousai stands in shock, though it appeared not by what he had done, but by the thin red line, that suddenly began bleeding from his face. Quickly he flicked his sword, in the manner I had seen in the print, and rid it of the excess blood. Then he took a sheet of rice paper from an accomplice who appeared before him and wiped the blade clean before re-sheathing it.

I suddenly wished this vivid dream to be over. I did not want to see this. This was not, could not be my father. I heard him softly whisper, "May you find happiness in the next world…" The world around me went black again.

I was in a field surrounded by men, training. I could see up on the hill, two or three men, conversing and gesturing to those below, now lined up to show their skill. Then I heard a commotion, as a boy, approached from the head of the line. This boy was my father as well, but younger still. He looked like he was only fourteen. But he had on his face the willfulness, and unflinching determination. An older man behind him, yelled out, "Ha! This kid brought his own sword! I'll give you a ryo if you can cut the pole in half." The training pole before them was thick, and wrapped with rope. The boy approached it slowly, studying it, then quickly in one stroke cut it in two. Then he smashed one of the pieces with the scabbard. "One ryo," the boy said. My vision went dark once again.

I was now standing in the main room of another inn. It was full of the navy-uniformed men of the Ishin Shishi, and they were all sandwiched together in the tight space, all that is, except for the hitokiri. He sat in the corner of the room eating quietly. This Kenshin was my age for sure. From where I stood, I could hear the conversations of several around me. "The boy is frightening, a demon. Last night he took out ten men in one swing!" one man said. Another stated, "Don't look him in the eyes unless you want to be his next target." Or, "Why should the demon eat in our dining room, he is scaring half of the patrons!" one of the women said. But then, a different comment took my ears, "Did you see he brought a woman back last week?"

I saw his face shot up, and his eyes narrowed. He abruptly stood and left the room. Then I saw a beautiful dark haired woman take his sleeve. " Since you decided not to attend the meeting with Katsura-san, would you enjoy the Gion festival with me?"

"Yes, Tomoe." Tomoe- I had heard that name before, just once. Mother and father had had a small fight, and I over heard through the screens. Father was saying that he thought soon Yahiko should take over teaching at the school. But she quickly said, she could not be prim like Tomoe, and she would teach until she was tired. I had assumed she was another old acquaintance of theirs, like Megumi-san, who would visit from time to time. Who was this woman to him? She seemed friendly enough. They walked through the streets and watched as fireworks shone overhead. I was amazed at the ease he let himself show in this woman's presence.

They returned to their inn, and he excused himself to rest, when a few men rushed in, and ran for Battousai's room. "Something terrible has happened! The Ikedaya was raided by the Shinsengumi!" In the commotion, I watched everyone don disguising clothing, and leave the inn. I saw several men march through the streets wearing bloodstained light blue coats, proudly. And I saw the fires in the distance. This was the reason that my father had been so uneasy during the festival earlier. This was why he did not travel to Kyoto for the festivals like other families did.

I watched as Battousai and Tomoe were instructed to head for the mountains to a safe house. But on the way they made a surprising stop, at a temple along the way a marriage ceremony was held. My father had been married before.

Suddenly, as before, the scene before me blurred, and then the picture was a clear snow filled day. I watched as the woman left the small home in the mountains, and soon after, her hitokiri husband followed, though he seemed somewhat more frantic than I had seen him before.

As he wandered through the forest after, I soon learned, Tomoe, I watched as the young man-probably now sixteen- was attacked by several men in sequence. His senses were altered, but he fought for his life, and hers, too. The most disturbing scene, however, was the boy charging the ringleader with intent to kill. From the corner of my eye I saw Tomoe run towards them with just a tantou. I wanted to yell out- but no sound left my lips. I saw his blade run through her body, and the monster's. Her tantou drew a trail across his face to contrast the one that existed there before. Now bleeding fully, the cross-shape was complete.

I now understood his restraint to tell me his past. It was dirty with blood flowing freely in the streets. And he had lost someone dear to him. This was why he was so reluctant to tell me, why he would not let me be stronger. To be stronger meant to be a target, and when you are the target, so too is everyone around you.

I suddenly felt my body being jostled, and all at once a bright light flooded my vision.


End file.
